


A Million Bad Habits to Kick

by 2towels



Series: Hitchhiker's Guide to a Galaxy Family [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bars and Pubs, Hitchhiking, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining Keith (Voltron), Slow Dancing, Team as Family, Tipsy Lance (Voltron), can be read stand alone, keith thinks lance is beautiful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-11 08:03:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13520022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2towels/pseuds/2towels
Summary: Admittedly, his watching of Lance seemed to be most prominent. He couldn’t help the way Lance’s dazzling gaze entranced him even from afar, nor the way Lance’s twists and spins to any music made his chest feel warm.And Shiro always caught him staring. From across tables he would give a poorly hidden smirk to the longing young man, not even bothering to follow his gaze and confirm where it led.---Keith falls in love with Lance like one unravels a mystery: slotting clues together unintentionally until presented with something wild and unbelievable





	A Million Bad Habits to Kick

**Author's Note:**

> Me, tentatively posting this four months after my last fic was published: oh shit whaddup dudes
> 
> To clarify before you read this: they definitely don't have sex and the mildly suggestive things are only supposed to look like such for the effect of Keith overthinking things. He would never take advantage of drunken Lance, obviously.
> 
> Also shoutout to whoever mentioned this series in an anon ask on one of my favorite blogs you're the only reason I finished this draft because it was like halfway done and I was EMPOWERED by seeing it being mentioned so casually :'^) made me all warm and fuzzy i feel so valid wtf

Keith wondered about the tiny Pidge Gunderson’s origins more often then he would admit. For somebody who spent half of his free nights staring down curious on-lookers in bars for her, he was suspiciously answerless. Across the table, Pidge shuffled her deck like she had been trained professionally and made eye-contact with the ever-suspicious boy, but Keith only rolled his eyes and got up to get a drink. It surprised Keith, at first, when he realized how much the group of them flocked to bars. It made sense in a way—they were healthy adults with no destination or ambition, and they had the gracious ability to pitifully drink for half the night, after all—but it still surprised him. They all had different, interesting habits, and it really brought a sense of uniqueness to their group.

For the first half of every trip to a bar, Pidge set up shop at any booth or side table with a worn deck of cards and was guarded by Shiro and Allura. Keith would naturally flock by Shiro, though it wasn’t intentional for him to aid Pidge’s secret service. Across the room, if available, Hunk would position himself at a billiards table and Lance would convince pretty ladies’ boyfriends to compete in games of darts with him. He won every time, but only kept up his gambling on the wins so long as he was sober.

Hunk never drank, and Lance only drank fancy pastel colored drinks. When the first pretty drink touched Lance’s delicate hands, all dart competing money immediately found Hunk’s pockets for safe-keeping. When Hunk got bored or there wasn’t a billiards table to engage, he joined Shiro for their patented Long Talks. When Keith had first acquainted himself with Allura properly, he expected her to also actively keep herself sober, but she was usually the first with a drink warming her cheeks, laughing at her own stories and giving deadly serious looks to Pidge, who bantered with her as if she weren’t intoxicated at all.

Keith liked to just watch. He enjoyed a stiff drink every now and then, but there was less of an edge he felt he needed to take off with more time in Voltron. So, he watched his new company, noticing the way Allura knew many of the old bar owners they stopped to see, the way Lance’s bright eyes drew people in, the way Hunk’s strong hands conquered people in arm wrestling, the way Shiro sighed at each beer he drank, and the way Pidge laughed when any card player rolled their eyes.

Admittedly, his watching of Lance seemed to be most prominent. He couldn’t help the way Lance’s dazzling gaze entranced him even from afar, nor the way Lance’s twists and spins to any music made his chest feel warm.

And Shiro always caught him staring. From across tables he would give a poorly hidden smirk to the longing young man, not even bothering to follow his gaze and confirm where it led.

“Do you want to be dealt in, Keith? I need another victim.” Pidge mused from a few tables away, tone suspiciously cunning.

Hunk laughed openly from beside Shiro as he sat, abandoning his billiards and taking in Keith’s stricken watching. “I’ll play, Pidge. Why don’t you ask him, buddy?”

Realizing Hunk was speaking to him, Keith blinked and waited for him to clarify.

“To dance. Just ask Lance to dance.” Hunk’s warm eyes cut to Shiro as he snorted, but he carried on speaking. “He’s probably going to get sleepy soon, do me a favor and watch out for him? I sort of want to hang out a little later before we head over to the motel.”

Keith, knowing Hunk’s game but appreciating the ruse, nodded and accepted his task of keeping an eye on Lance officially. He was twisting and bumping with a laughing girl, half in hysterics himself, but he was glistening and catching the light beautifully. Allura laughed loudly from the other end of the table from Pidge.

When the song ended, the girl on Lance’s arm was immediately surrounded by a gaggle of her friends, and Lance looked delighted at their enthusiasm, even while she was being led away. It was only when the girls had left the bar entirely that Lance’s lovely swaying dimed fractionally, shoulders slumping. Before Keith could even jerk at the expression—fight or flight kicking in _somehow_ at the notion of Lance’s disappointment—Lance was turning back to the bar. A pretty piña colada found his hand, and he drank it like a dehydrated man, throat looking as a beautiful column as he chugged the drink and ignored the bright red straw.

Back at the table there was a muted conversation Keith _knew_ was teasing him, but he ignored it in favor of intensely watching Lance suck on his pineapple wedge. When all was finished with his drink, eyes bright and confident again, he stroked a tan hand through his short hair, tousling the front, and slid closer to a man nearby at the bar.

It was obvious Lance was laying on the usual charm, smile blindingly white, but the longer he was near the man the more discouraged he seemed. When the man shifted, back facing Keith, Lance flinched entirely and backed away, hands thrown up as to be unthreatening and wary.

Keith was on the move in record time, ignoring Pidge and Allura’s squawks when he shifted the table slightly as he passed again. Awkwardly, Lance seemed to stand out in the center of the dance floor, no longer in time with the music and dejection written clearly on his face. When his hands lowered and couldn’t seem to settle anywhere, Keith was there to catch them.

The warmth and delight that spread on Lance’s face was worth an eternity of watching from afar, but Keith didn’t have to.

“Hey stranger.” Lance purred as if he hadn’t ever been sad in his life. Keith rolled his eyes but Lance’s warm cheeks and smile were unbelievably fond, “What brings you ‘round these parts?”

Keith had to forcefully remind himself that Lance wasn’t sober, grasping the soft hands that moved to try and paw at Keith’s waist. At the restriction, Lance didn’t seem to be too deterred, moving his hands to rest on Keith’s elbows and smiling dopily at him before he thumped his head into the chest of Keith’s leather jacket.

Hesitantly, Keith rested his hands onto Lance’s back, who hummed softly along to the jukebox music just as sleepy as Hunk had predicted. Before Keith knew it, they were swaying, and Lance’s hand rested comfortably in the crook of Keith’s neck, breath ghosting over Keith’s collarbone with every warm exhale once he had turned his face. Keith was dying, but it was blissful and beautiful.

“You’re a nice guy, Keith.” He whispered when the song changed again. He picked up the humming fluidly, apparently familiar with this tune as well.

A long beat passed before Keith remembered to reply. “Thanks.” He murmured, feeling a million eyes on him but only thinking about the pair closed beneath his chin.

Lance hummed an affirmative and Keith trailed a finger delicately up his spine. It was a tentative motion that even Keith wasn’t sure of the point of, but Lance’s lips pressed at Keith’s neck as he nuzzled in, and he could feel their smile.

“We’re friends, right, Keith?” Lance whispered, swaying gently and shivering as Keith’s fingers trailed down his back again.

Keith felt like he was walking through a dream. Had it not been for the swell of people around them and the joined occasional loud laughter of Hunk and Allura across the room, Keith was sure he would wake up the second Lance’s clumsy hands slid around his waist, linking at the small of his back as he burrowed into Keith’s jacket.

“Yeah.” Keith breathed, “I thought so.”

Lance was so beautiful, and Keith was so lost in the feel of him in his arms. He was a mystery—they all were, in a right—but Keith’s mind worked tirelessly observing every part of Lance’s existence.

Over Lance’s shoulder, the man he had hit on at the bar was glancing back at them, and, ever protective of his friends, Keith flipped him off and kept swaying with the lovely boy in his arms. He rolled his eyes and Keith watched his every step out of the bar.

“I’m going to make you a friendship bracelet.” Lance reassured in almost a slur, body lax against Keith’s own nervously tense one.

A little uncertainly, Keith smiled and said, “Okay.” When Lance hummed, Keith met eyes over his shoulder with Hunk, who smiled encouragingly. “Do you want to go to bed?” Keith tried, securing his arm around Lance’s back to better support the tired boy.

The lanky arms around Keith’s waist tightened, and Lance tucked himself impossibly closer. It wasn’t forceful of implicative, but Keith felt heat wash over his face all the same when Lance’s lips smeared under the collar of his shirt when he nodded. “Mmm.” Lance insisted in agreement when Keith fell still in their steps. It took a few moments for him to collect himself, but inevitably they were sauntering out of the bar, Lance making his clinging as difficult but endearing as possible.

In any other situation, Keith knew for sure he would be irritated at the events, but there was something inexplicably yearning in him to be a good friend to Lance, to become somebody those bright eyes could confide in whenever they dimmed. So, even when Lance slipped and whined for Keith to carry him, Keith soldiered on with dragging the drunk boy, knowing the act itself was like admitting that little secret he’d been denying himself since he first stepped into the van.

It was easy enough for Keith to ignore the jeers of their friends as they swung out of the bar, but Lance was enchanted even in his sleepy state by their ‘well wishes’ enough to wave enthusiastically over Keith’s shoulder and wish them all good night as loudly as possible. It was only when the creaky entrance had closed behind them and the night felt quiet again that Lance seemed to hunker down in tire once more, burrowing in close and slipping his hand back to where he had pulled it off Keith’s belt. It wasn’t doing anything, Keith was noting with intense interest, just…sitting on the buckle. Like he was still trying to be his sober, suggestive self without any real heat behind it.

It took ten feet of stumbling in Keith’s arms for Lance to shoot his head up, acting remarkably awake, and call, “Wait, where’s _Hunk_?” The loudness directly in his ear was surprising, but Keith tried to press on, not initially taking the cry seriously until Lance called again, “ _Hunk_! He didn’t go, did he? Keith, did he go home?” His head swiveled around in sweeping motions, looking all up and down the street and through the two alleys Keith painstakingly managed to drag him past.

“He’s at the bar we just left, Lance, you just saw him.” Keith grumbled, shifting to loosen his arms around the increasingly jerking Lance, “He’s fine. He said he would be back at the motel later tonight.”

Suddenly seeming more distraught than ever, Lance whispered, “Is he alone?” and when Keith flicked his gaze to the side of his companion’s face he was stunned into silence at the wetness shining in those blue eyes. “Did I leave him alone?”

“No.” Keith blurted, panicked, “No, he’s with our friends. He’s playing cards with Pidge, probably. Don’t cry.”

“I won’t.” Lance’s lip wobbled, but he fell into Keith again with remarkably fast recovery. “That’s good. He’s fine. Tell him I love him?”

Dragging Lance again yet unable to look where he was going, Keith breathed, “Yeah.”

It didn’t take long to reach the motel, having set up in some rooms just around the corner from the bar itself, but it felt like an eternity with Lance’s sleepy breaths warming his shoulder and Keith having to adjust his hold on the skinnier boy every few steps when he stumbled. As he crossed the threshold with Lance in his arms, Keith toed the door closed behind him and was startled to find Lance rolling out of his arms and beginning to undress with earnest.

“Lance—No.” He fumbled, but Lance stopped at his boxers, having wiggled out of everything above in seconds flat. “Just get in bed.”

He whipped his head back at Keith to level him with an amusingly disgruntled glare, huffing, “You can’t _rush me_ , Keith. It makes me uncomfortable.” He stuck his nose up indignantly as he retrieved his phone from deep within the pocket of his jeans and somehow had the foresight to plug it into the first fitting phone charger he found in their row on the nearby power strip. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, you need to tuck me in.” Without any further protests, he fell into one of the double beds they had rented and curled up, not even bothering with the blankets or sheets laid neatly beneath him.

“Why would I excuse you if you need me to tuck you in?” Keith tried, flustered but ready to move past it for the sake of the night being preserved as a good one in his mind. He yanked the bedding out from under Lance with no ceremony, and Lance called loudly about being cold all the while up until the sheets were shoved back on top of his shoulders.

Keith should have expected it when Lance’s warm hand shot out to grip Keith’s shoulder, but he still froze in surprise, feeling the need to flee submerge him like ice water. There was too much pressure in the contact for it to feel like a drunken act, but it still was and Keith had to get out of there. “Take your shoes off, you heathen.” Lance mumbled, yanking Keith down closer and using his free hand to scoop around his waist while he rolled.

Legs flung in the air with the surprising flip, Keith groaned, trying to wiggle out as soon as Lance had settled, but the twig arms wouldn’t budge. “Shoes.” He mumbled one more time, and Keith glared determinedly at the ceiling, resolving to stay still until Lance fell asleep and use the laxness in his arms then to slip away fully.

That didn’t mean he didn’t cherish each soft breath and hand brush Lance fed to him unconsciously, even with the nugget of guilt for it in his chest for taking advantage of that.

The next morning, Keith woke up alone with no memory of falling asleep, but a giant ball of dread was there in its place. His phone was plugged into the power strip on the nightstand and his boots were on the floor at the side of the bed, and he felt a strange lurch in his chest he hadn’t felt in a long time. He got up in a frenzy, noting his phone only being half charged really and his backpack lying open at his feet. He hadn’t carried much with him these days but he’d still like to see it all stay with him.

It was when he was elbow deep in his bag, shoes on but left unlaced, throwing items from his bag onto his bed that Shiro walked in and paused. “Hey, Keith.”

Cowlicks whipped in a fraction of a second while Keith looked to Shiro, glare deep settled on his features and seeming firmly closed in on himself. “Shiro?” Keith’s voice was biting, sounding viciously pissed, and Shiro could see him visibly calm down as he took in his presence. “Shiro.”

“Keith.” Shiro said again for fun, eyes roaming the bed nonchalantly and slowly putting together what had been happening in the span of fifteen minutes they had left Keith alone to pack the car properly. “Car’s all set if you’re up. Lance and Pidge just got back from a walk and Allura’s begging for coffee that isn’t from a McDonalds or a motel, so we’ve already got this morning’s mission if you’re good.”

“Yeah.” Keith snapped instantly, looking more than a little wild in the eyes despite his loosening shoulders. There was a hesitation before he retracted his hands from his bag completely, and Shiro realized that something in him looked more than a little lost. He swept a free hand through his greasy hair and stared at his palm as soon as he was done, “Where are my gloves?”

“Lance.” Was all Shiro said as he turned away, chuckling despite his growing concern for the kid he had known since he was a wild little rat of a boy. A brief pause in his steps was more than enough time for Keith to have closed the motel door firmly and tear past Shiro with his bag resealed and boots laced tightly.

When Keith caught sight of Lance leaning against the car, the only thing he growled was, “Gloves.” And Lance understood perfectly despite his apparent amusement, peeling off the little leather fingerless gloves from his hands and flinging them to Keith with a flourish.

“You sleep like a dead man, buddy.” The lanky boy laughed, receiving a water bottle from Hunk and grinning at him in thanks for it.

Keith huffed, shoving himself into the pink van and willing himself patience and focus. “You’re one to talk.”

Holding his hands up in surrender, Lance laughed and slid into the van next to Hunk, tapping the tips of their bottles together before cracking open the plastic cap. Hunk was engrossed in a series of motel notepad pages filled with Pidge Scrawl, but he smiled at Lance’s silent antics. “What I do while intoxicated is for you all to know and me to never remember. If that includes blissful intense sleep, so be it.”

“Wha—You don’t remember anything when you’re drunk?” Keith found himself asking, leaning forward in his car seat and furrowing his brows. There was a bite in his tone, but he couldn’t settle it even when Shiro sat beside him and gave him his wariest glance.

“You could say.” Lance answered effortlessly, “I sure do remember that tall glass of water in the low light…the pina colada I felt deep in my core…the hazy music of a speakeasy at the height of the night…”

“Stop talking.” Pidge interrupted from the front seat, turning the radio on and lowering it when Allura clambered into the car, hair impeccable but eyes tired.

Keith found himself speaking before he could think on it. “We had a bonding moment!” He cried, leaning forward to squint at Lance, “I cradled you in my arms!”

With bright blue eyes Keith had admired all night widened and nostrils flared, Lance leaned back and took Keith in fully. “Nope,” he started, crossing his arms and turning away to get comfortable in his seat again, “Don’t remember, didn’t happen.” There could have been a smile in his voice, but rather than try and get a look, Keith hunkered back into his own seat, shoved earbuds in, and refused to admit he was pouting.

Fifteen minutes later, when he looked down at his crossed arms while he decided he would try and nod off again, he noticed the red woven bracelet on his wrist, tucked beneath the cuff of his glove. He felt the lurch in his chest again.

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place not too long after 'Just a Young Gun With a Quick Fuse' and is all part of the sweet, sweet build of hitchhiker adventures I've got set up wOO
> 
> Please consider: following me on [tumblr](https://2towels.tumblr.com/) to see more content and me spewing nonsense ♥
> 
> EDIT: Almost forgot! Title is from Lorde's [ A World Alone!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eWUnVyO1Klk)
> 
> Or, you know...do both if you're able. Thank you so much for any support!


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